Cincinnatus's Women
by griffonnage
Summary: Daniel tells a story. This is just for fun. DB Characters: Daniel, Mingo, Yadkin, Cincinnatus, Becky, Israel, & Jemima.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

As I remember, it was a crisp Kentucky night in early spring. A full moon hung in a clear night sky spangled with stars. Returning from a long hunt, I was wrapped in a blissful oneness with Nature. The wind was brisk upon my face, the see and saw of the forest serenaded me, the zest of pine zinged my nose. It was a state of dreamy alertness to which I was accustomed when from afar a delinquent discord, a noxious rumbling grumbling brew, fell upon my ears--a Friday night at Cincinnatus's tavern. As I was jolted from my reverie, I knew the ruckus would likewise disturb the Shawnee night hunters along the dark Kentucky River and cause them to curse my name.

Oh reader, I beg thee to listen with non-judging hearts to my unpardonable tale of gender dissonance upon the American frontier. Do not judge too harshly the unhitched feller loose from the civilizing forces of society with nothing but a pocket of dreams hinged upon an acre of hard dirt clods and stubborn briar patches. Nor take to heart the inhospitable treatment elicited by the occasional rarefied Eastern visitor to our savage isolated fort. Think upon this: would the reception be any kinder for a buckskin-clad feller with a dead raccoon atop his head at a governor's ball in Williamsburg? I think not.

At the stroke of midnight every Friday and Saturday in the small hamlet of my namesake, Boonesborough, as if controlled by some unearthly demonic command, the rowdies at the tavern would get to fighting and tearing the place up. Fists, bodies, tables, and chairs would fly. This particular Friday, that was about the time I strolled through the fort gates. I wanted to leave the pelts I carried with Cincinnatus. Recognizing the familiar raucous noise, I approached the tavern door to see if I could lend a hand. As I reached for the latch, the door flung open upon me and the brawl fell into the fort's yard.

Yelping men crammed through the narrow doorway like hornets leaving a hive on fire with Cincinnatus a-hollering after them threatening to put bullets in their backsides. They hopped, skipped and brushed at their backs and britches like they were on fire. That cantankerous innkeeper was not below sticking fire ants down the shirt backs of his unruly patrons.

I waited for the grumbling, stumbling men to find their way to their individual cabins. Some collapsed in the yard unable to remember where they lived.

Cincinnatus stood with his arms akimbo, a black fringed hulk silhouetted in the doorway. "That you, Dan'l?" he called out.

"Yep," I answered. "The usual Friday night mayhem?"

"Those bucks are goin' to be the ruin o' me."

"Ah, now Cincinnatus, surely they didn't break nothin' that can't be fixed."

"They knocked in two barrels of good whiskey that I can now only use to mop the floor. Then they broke nine jars of molasses practicin' some fool game of rollin' a cannonball."

"Just nine?"

The haggard proprietor shook his gray head and thrust his hands into the air as if pleading to the god of tavern keepers. He let me in then quickly barred the door behind me.

The place stank of whiskey and molasses.

"Have you talked to them when they're sober?" I asked.

"Aye, I've talked and talked and talked till I'm blue in the face. Oh, now, they'll apologize in the mornin' when they show up all sheepish like for breakfast, but do they offer to fix what they broke or clean-up their mess? No, siree. Me and Jericho is left to spend every Sunday afternoon doin' that."

I dropped my load of pelts on the counter. "You can add these to my credit tomorrow. I'm plumb tuckered-out. Think I'll be makin' my way home."

"Sure thing, Dan'l."

"Shall I call a parley with those boys?" I asked.

"Nope. I got me a plan and I've put it into action." Cincinnatus hitched his pants up with confidence and straightened his rough cotton apron.

The idea of Cincinnatus with a plan sent a shiver of anxiety through me like a night fright. "Care to share it?"

"Nay. I don't want to count my fish before they're fried. You'll see soon enough."

* * *

A month of Fridays and Saturdays went by and Cincinnatus's plan never materialized. I soon forgot about it. Mingo and Yadkin accompanied me to Salem to deliver a haul of pelts. On the way home, we were feeling lighter without our burden, just three friends without a care in the world. Me and Mingo was discussing the benefits of using molasses to lure deer, a sticky issue between us, when I noticed Yadkin was hanging back and moping along behind. "Yad, what's the matter, something ailing you?"

"Nah. I'm just sorry to be leavin' Salem behind."

"May I ask why?" Mingo said with a puzzled look. "What does Salem have that Boonesborough doesn't have?"

Yadkin raised his blond brows and hollered to be certain that all our adversaries for miles could hear, "What does Salem have that Boonesborough don't have! Why it's a regular mee-trop-o-lis. It's got two taverns, two inns, two general stores, people a-comin' and a-goin' with business from all over and you know what Salem has for sure that Boonesborough don't have?"

Mingo and I hadn't a clue. We looked at each other and shrugged.

"Women! Salem's got women a gaddin' about all prissy like with their little fans and hats. (We couldn't help chuckling at Yadkin's imitation of what he had witnessed.)

"How many o' them creatures do you see in Boonesborough?" Yad asked all solemn-like.

I couldn't answer as I was in a full tilt of laughter until the tears came to my eyes, but Mingo asked stoically, "Yadkin, why would this presence of women matter to you of all people? You always run away when any woman shows the least interest in you."

"All the same, Mingo. There's somethin' about them just bein' there. I'm not sayin' anythin' about livin' with one o' them. I'm just sayin' they sort a-brighten a place up."

Mingo chuckled and shook his head. "You have a point there, but I'm surprised it materialized in your dura mater."

Yadkin screwed his face up and furrowed his brow. "Mingo, why the gol-dang-it do you have t'use them fer-in words? A feller cain't ferret your meanin'. You might as well be jawin' Cherokee."

Mingo snapped his head up and cocked one dark eyebrow in contemplation as if he was going to launch into a debate with our lesser-learned friend, but he must have thought better of it. He smiled and shook his head and dropped his eyes back to the dusty trail before him.

"I could not imagine Chota without the women," Mingo said. "It would be a dull and lifeless place. So, Yadkin, when will we have the pleasure of meeting your new love in Salem?"

"Huh? My new what? Have you gone fool crazy? I ain't got no such disorder."

Mingo couldn't keep from laughing with me. Yad didn't seem to know that he was a lure for the female kind. He was a big strong feller with a shock of blond hair and eyes like robins' eggs. Just what women could take a shine to.

We continued our journey silently contemplating the aspect of a place with no women and how it differed from one blessed with the fair sex when behind us came a thump and rattle announcing the approach of a wooden-wheeled conveyance. When we turned it was nigh upon us and we had to scramble and tumble and leap spread eagled to get out of the road before a mad pair of horses with bared teeth and flaring nostrils ran us down.

The team was pulling a wagon full of flying, bouncing mounds of pattern, color and ribbon. I was sorely alarmed as I watched it zig and zag. It ran off the road and into a ditch where it came to an abrupt halt throwing baggage and crates everywhere. We approached the vehicle warily as it was manned—ah—or womanned--by three ladies each with flailing arms grabbing at bonnets, skirts and screaming like piglets loose from their pen.

I was the first to approach and I did so with great caution. "Are you ladies all right?"

The women stopped their fussing for a moment at the sound of my voice. They each turned and stared me up and down as if I was a wild animal they had nary seen before.

"Why, ah—who are you?" asked a strong alto voice. The owner of the voice was finely dressed in a dark green traveling gown with a big-feathered hat that cast a dark shadow concealing her eyes. She hurriedly tried to brush the dust from her skirt with her gloved hands but it only created a cloud that made her sneeze with a high-pitched "Ka-Choo!"

"Bless you, ma'am. The name's Dan'l Boone. This here's my friend Mingo and that there's my friend Yadkin."

The lady dabbed at her nose with a white laced handkerchief that appeared like magic right out of her sleeve. "Dear me, what funny names you have. I suppose they go with your costumes, though." She brushed the back of her hand across her forehead allowing us a glimpse of her fine thinly drawn pale features ornamented by two coal-black orbs for eyes.

"Lawdy, Corinthe, the least you could do is introduce us," the red-head said with a punching loud voice that carried an air of disdain. "Gentlemen, my name is Priscilla Prinkle and this here is my friend Bitsy Sue." She tipped her hand to the very blonde lady scrunched between her and Corinthe. Bitsy Sue blinked at us in silence. Priscilla had meat on her bones. She had the tanned skin and reddish cheeks to show she was healthier than her companions and looked like she may have worked a farm at some point in her life. She could certainly holler like one who had called the hogs more'n a few times.

Priscilla continued, "We are glad to make your acquaintance. As you can see we are in a bit of a predicament. Our buggy seems to have become stuck. We would surely appreciate your assistance if you would be so kind?" Her beaming smile made her eyes twinkle.

I lifted my coonskin cap a little as way of acknowledging the woman's introduction. Yadkin echoed me with his feathered cocked hat. "My friends and I would be mighty glad to help. Mingo, Yad, you boys get the front end of this contraption and I'll push from back here."

The three of us soon had the wagon out of the ditch and back on the road. Yadkin and Mingo proceeded to recover the loose baggage and crates.

I took a breather and leaned on Ticklicker. I couldn't fathom a reason in my head why these three ladies would be traveling west on this trail all alone without a man in sight. I figured they must've taken a wrong turn and were now lost. "Where are you ladies headed?" I asked.

"Hades," Corinthe spat.

"Boonesborough," Priscilla said with a cold stare at Corinthe.

"Mr. Boone," Priscilla said, "my good friend Bitsy Sue can tell you exactly where we are going and to whom we are intending to rendezvous." She pursed her full lips and glanced askance at Corinthe.

Bitsy Sue took that as a cue to pull a piece of folded paper from her beaded handbag tied at her wrist. She cleared her throat then proceeded to speak in a bird-like voice that made my ears want to crawl back into my head. "We are to meet a Mr. Jones at the Boonesborough Trading post west of Salem over the Cumberland Pass."

She looked up with a wide grin pleased with her performance. Priscilla cleared her throat and nudged the proud orator. Bitsy Sue stared perturbed at her friend at first and then as if just remembering something, she turned over the paper and squealed, "Wait! Wait! There's more." She flapped the paper and her hands in the air, and then read carefully, "We are to take the Boone trace off the main road. It's marked by three white boulders." She looked up brightly with blue eyes flashing under her dainty white lace cap. "Is that near here?" she whined.

I glanced behind me at my friends for guidance. They were making like two bewildered moose with their jaws hanging open. I turned back to the ladies and smiled. "Well you are in luck. Me and my friends are headed to that exact same place."

"Dan'l," Yad hollered making me jump, "we cain't drive that painted up ox-cart over this trail. Have you gone plumb loco?"

"However," I said, addressing the women calmly with a smile, "on second thought, you ladies have half-day's journey ahead of you and it's a mite rough for a fancy buggy like yours. Perhaps we should accompany you back to--" The women were paying no mind to my words. Priscilla and Bitsy Sue's faces beamed with joy.

"The good lord has blessed our travels," Bitsy squealed.

"Either that, or these are the devil's henchmen," Corinthe said in her deep voice. She followed her words with a smirk my way that made my toes curl.

"Now, Corinthe," Priscilla said softly, "you surely don't mean to slight these three angels of mercy who have clearly been placed here by Good Providence for the purpose of seeing us safely to our destination? I think we ALL could show them a little of our civility. Bitsy Sue and I have an abundance of unbridled courtesy as we are southern girls but you being from the colder part of the colonies might have to work at it. Surely, you have a little to share?"

"Humph," Corinthe breathed. "What rot! This is a God-forsaken country. Why should I believe these highwaymen are angels?"

Bitsy Sue shared a look with Priscilla then turned up her pug nose. "Shame, shame, Corinthe." They both shook their heads in unison like two squirrels on a tree limb chastising a dog.

Mingo dropped a crate, startling us all. A pile of black books spilled to the dirt road. Bitsy bolted straight up to her full height, which was quite astonishing. She twisted her pencil-thin form around to face the rear and perched herself on the buggy seat like a blue jay. "Oh! Oh!" she sputtered, "sir, please be careful, those are my journals."

Mingo peered up with a quizzical look on his comely bronze face.

"I write. Those are my writing journals."

The Cherokee smiled and nodded as if he understood what she spoke and carefully returned the books to their container. "So you keep a journal of your travels?" he asked.

"She is a writer, Mr. Mingo," Priscilla said. "All of these crates are full of her poems and prose. The concrete evidence of her bountiful God-given talent."

"Amazing how you can know that having only known the woman for three days. I'd say you're the one with the talent," Corinthe mumbled.

Priscilla put her muscular arm around Bitsy Sue and squeezed the thin woman making me wince for fear she would snap her like a twig. "Bitsy Sue and I are bosom friends."

Mingo smiled at the ladies, but ducked his head and stole a secret frown at me as if to ask what he was to make of this. Mingo was always doing that—expecting me to answer for some peculiarity of the white race as if he wasn't half white himself. I gave him my silent 'beats-me' shrug to let him know I was in no way privy to the explanation he sought.

After the baggage was loaded, Yadkin and Mingo took seats at the rear with their legs dangling and their backs to the women, while I squeezed into the seat between Corinthe and Bitsy Sue and took the reins. After slapping the leather across the animals backs and reaching a comfortable speed I asked, "So, ladies, are your husbands coming along after you?"

The three ladies frowned at each other, then glared at me. I felt like I had just asked the Pope if he was Christian.

"We are not in possession of husbands, Mr. Boone," Corinthe offered.

Along the way, I learned that Priscilla was a widowed schoolteacher and Bitsy Sue a spinster that spent her young years caring for her invalid parents. I learned the shy side of nothing about Corinthe. Her accent placed her from Boston. I surmised she was a blue-blood by the fact that she could talk without moving her upper lip. A talent known to be taught in the finest finishing schools back east. I was growing more and more curious as to their purpose with Cincinnatus. Finally, the question burst forth from my lips, "What business do you three women have in Boonesborough?"

Corinthe snapped, "Our ill-fated business is with Mr. Cincinnatus Jones." I took that to mean I was not to ask. So I sat quietly while Priscilla and Bitsy Sue 'oohed and aahed' at every turn of the road then yapped about places they had been and things they knew. Priscilla was a fount of useless knowledge. I couldn't help glancing now and then to each side to take in what sort of creatures I was bringing home. The women were not particularly old and not particularly young. They weren't too ugly and they weren't too pretty either. Of course, there was no woman on earth equal to my Rebecca with the bright red hair.

As we approached the Boonesborough fort, the tall gates opened and suddenly the chattering ladies went dead quiet. I guided the traumatized horses to the front of the tavern. All the settlers gathered around to gawk at the newcomers. My family—Becky, Jemima and Israel--did the same as they followed Cincinnatus out of the tavern. As I assisted the women down from the wagon one by one, I was shocked to discover that each were nearly as tall as I. Looking out over the sea of heads before them like well-dressed mongoose, they were as timid as cabin flies in sight of a flyswatter.

Cincinnatus took a special interest in the women. He circled them, scratched his beard and ran his beady gray eyes up and down each one.

Becky didn't miss it. She planted her hands on her hips. "Cincinnatus, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were planning to put these women on your store shelf and sell them."

The proprietor stopped his prowling real quick, cleared his throat, and peered shyly at Becky.

"Cincinnatus," I said, "this here is Bitsy Sue Harper, Priscilla Prinkle and Corinthe—I'm sorry I didn't catch your last name?"

"Haggleworth," Corinthe offered with a tired sigh.

"Welcome to Boonesborough, ladies, my name is Cincinnatus Jones. If you'd be so kind to please step into my office." The old codger swung his arm out towards the tavern door and bowed to the women as if they were royalty.

Becky frowned and looked at me for an explanation. I shrugged.

Cincinnatus talked privately with the ladies in his backroom making everyone itch with curiosity. All the settlers at the fort started talking at once, pondering who those women were and why they had come to Boonesborough. I could only plead ignorance, which earned me chiding looks of disbelief from the womenfolk and chuckles from the menfolk. I did remember Cincinnatus's plan though and that had me a mite worried.

* * *

The next day the women moved into a vacant but completely furnished cabin in the fort. No one could recall seeing who had furnished the cabin, so it was the conclusion of the fort gossips that it was done on the sly for ill-purpose in the darkness of night.

Becky rose early to make an extra pot of Irish stew. I chided her from the bed for letting her curiosity lead her nose where it shouldn't go. In answer, she merely flipped her red head up and asked, "What would you like me to find out, Mr. Boone?"

I turned my back to my wife pretending to sleep awhile longer and mumbled, "This ain't no place for women without husbands. Why would they come here and what has Cincinnatus got to do with them?"

After lunch, Becky picked up her pot of stew and marched out with her spruced-up children in tow, headed for the fort. I was left to wait in nervous anticipation.

I only had to wait a couple of hours, when I saw my family returning. I hurried out and started chopping the wood. "So?" I asked upon their approach, as if I didn't care.

"Pa! Pa! She called me a pumpkin!" Israel shouted as he approached at full gallop.

"Israel Boone, you hold on there young man!" Becky hollered. "You can speak when you are spoken to." Becky grabbed the boy's shirt collar bringing him to an abrupt halt.

"So what, Dan?" Becky asked as if she didn't care.

"The ladies?

"Of course."

I leaned on my axe and wiped my brow with my handkerchief, then turned my most perplexed look upon my wife.

"Dan, I don't know why they are here," she sputtered with a pout.

"Didn't you ask?

"I asked Pa," Jemima announced, "but Ma didn't give them a chance to answer."

"Jemima Boone, I'm relating this to your Pa."

Jemima crossed her arms and rolled her blue eyes to the sky.

"Dan, these children of yours require socialization. Why I can't take them anywhere. The minute we entered the tall one--"

"They are all tall, Becky."

"Yes, well, the blonde one, Bitsy Sue. She went to gushing all over us." Rebecca mimicked Bitsy Sue's bird-like chirp. 'Oh, what cute little children, and to think Priscilla, these are Mr. Boone's offspring. That angel in buckskin that saved our lives on the road. Now, what's your name little pumpkin?'"

"She pinched my nose and called me a pumpkin, Pa!" Israel howled as he crossed his arms defiantly over his pint-size chest and stomped his booted foot on the ground.

"Well, son, I reckon I wouldn't appreciate being called a pumpkin either."

"I had to pat your son's bottom to remind him of his manners," Becky said flustered. "Then Israel demonstrated for the ladies a seemingly total lack of education. Priscilla simply offered a bit of grammar instruction: 'I am not a pumpkin, Israel, not 'I ain't no pumpkin'--"

"I told her I knows you ain't no pumpkin," Israel whined, "I ain't no dufus, either."

My son was clearly most grieved with his treatment at the hands of these new females.

I completely understood the boy's point, but Becky scrunched her eyes into two determined blue slits. She was out of patience with MY children, so I kept my mouth shut and commenced to pick at the splinters on the log I had half chopped.

Becky continued, "Well, then Priscilla took that heavy pot of stew right out of my hand like it was a mere trifle and deposited it on the table. That Corinthe is a strange one, Dan. She just sat in the corner looking glum. She barely even acknowledged our presence."

"Bitsy Sue said Corinthe is a tad mopey…most of the time," Jemima added, "to which Corinthe replied, 'Who would not be mopey who left a comfortable town home on the finest street in Boston to be deposited in a filthy backward place like this? What rot!'" Jemima did a fine job of mimicking the deep-voiced Bostonian.

"So, I thought," Becky said, "that was my opportunity to get them on the subject of why they were in Boonesborough. I asked most kindly, 'So, you're from Boston?' I received a very curt 'Yes'."

"Priscilla intervened to prevent Corinthe from talking to us," Jemima said, "but she did ask us to stay and share the stew--"

"And of course I properly declined saying that we had to get back to our chores at home," Becky added as if on the same breath as her daughter. I just marveled at how the two of them could keep a conversation up in the air without breathing for longer than I could keep my head under water.

Becky continued, "I welcomed them to the community and asked them to please come and visit our home anytime. Cincinnatus could show them the way. They received that well, but remained completely silent staring at us. I knew Jemima was anxious to see her beau, Jericho, so I started to ask them their purpose in Boonesborough when YOUR daughter--"

"I just asked the obvious question," Jemima opined. "I said Ma wants to know why ya'll are here."

That sounded sensible to me. I was quite proud of my sensible daughter.

"Jemima's impatience got the better of her manners," Becky said.

Now, I was confused. Why can't you just ask a woman a simple question and get a simple answer?

My daughter puckered her button nose and said, "Priscilla had the nerve to say—'now Jemima you appear to be old enough to know that YA'LL is not a proper form of address.'"

Once again, Jemima was the perfect mimic. I could hear Priscilla like she was standing right there in front of me.

"Pa, she was correcting my English, just like a school marm," Jemima continued. "It was rude."

"YOUR daughter fixed her blue eyes upon Priscilla and said as surly as Yadkin, 'I don't know where you come from, but around here ya'll is as proper as anything'. Well, all I could do then is hurriedly exit the cabin with these two and spank their behinds."

"Ma was mad at us." Jemima said, "because she had to come home and tell you she didn't know why those women were in Boonesborough."

I had to drop my head and chuckle at that revelation, but I did my best to conceal it.

"Jemima Boone!" Becky yelled, "You best start thinking on how to get back on my good side if you want that new dress in time for the spring dance."

"Oh, Ma," Jemima said with a pout.

"You and Israel go tend to your chores this instant," Becky ordered.

Well, I knew what I needed to know. If Becky Boone didn't find cause to take up for those women, then there was trouble ahead for Boonesborough. Maybe Cincinnatus had hired him some barmaids.

* * *

When Friday night came around the local men filled the tavern as usual. Much to their surprise, Priscilla, Bitsy Sue and Corinthe were there. Priscilla was knitting stockings, Bitsy Sue was scribbling in one o' her journals and Corinthe was just sitting with her nose in the air. If they were barmaids, they were in sore need of training. The men were real gentlemanly as they scuffled in. They doffed their hats and said "howdy do."

Me, Mingo and Yadkin were there enjoying an ale and planning a fishing trip in the mountains. The normally rowdy patrons were unusually silent. I looked around and caught the eye of Corinthe who smiled and winked at me. That was most discomforting. I jerked my head back around to discover Yadkin grinning from ear to ear.

"Looks like you got an admirer, Dan'l," the big blond trapper said with glee.

I was most perturbed.

Mingo asked, "Did you find out why those women are here, Daniel?"

"No." I was unable to hide the frustration in my voice.

"Would it not be a simple task to inquire of them?" the Cherokee asked.

"If you think it's so simple, why don't you try it," I responded.

"All right." Mingo arose and strode to the fireplace as if he were chilled and needed its warmth. Priscilla was sitting next to the hearth, still knitting. Me and Yadkin watched the Oxford-educated Cherokee carefully, fully expecting him to have an easy time chatting with the women with his fine gentlemanly language.

Priscilla greeted Mingo with a smile. "You were with Mr. Boone yesterday were you not?"

"That is correct, Mrs. Prinkle."

"Oh, please, call me Priscilla. You saved our lives. Doesn't that make us friends? I am eternally grateful."

"Priscilla it is. I cannot help but be curious Priscilla as to your purpose in Boonesborough. This is very rough country for such fine ladies."

Priscilla looked up with big green eyes that reflected the fire light. Those eyes roamed up and down the native man then returned to rest on his eyes. "We are only seeking companionship, Mr. Mingo. No different than anyone else here I presume."

The native frowned. "Call me Mingo."

"Oh, of course. I do not know the proper address for Injuns."

Mingo's dark brows arose sharply. "Where did you live before?" he asked.

"Williamsburg. I'm a widow. I taught school there. My husband died--"

"I offer my condolences for your loss. Did it happen recently? How did he die?"

"No, it happened a couple of years ago. His heart just stopped…in bed." Priscilla dropped her head and knitted furiously.

It took Mingo a second to realize what she was telling him, but me and Yadkin were quietly chuckling to ourselves.

"Oh. I see," Mingo said. "Did you come here to teach school? There are several children in the community."

"No. I do not suppose they would have me as a teacher. The parent's never liked my peculiar ways."

Bitsy Sue had stopped writing and was studying on Mingo. The tall native caught her eye and offered her his dimpled smile in return. I knew right then he was stepping in a snare laid by the craftiest of creatures: a woman. She seemed a mite too taken with his charms. He stepped over and slid down beside her like a panther conversing with a lamb before his dinner. "May I ask what you are writing?" he said in his silky deep voice. I just shook my head in disbelief at his apparent naivety.

"Observations," Bitsy Sue said shyly trying to hide the page with her delicate long hands.

"What kind of observations?" Mingo frowned. "Are you a newspaper writer or a pamphleteer?"

"A newspaper? A pamphleteer?" she squealed causing all heads to turn towards the couple. "Who would pay little ol' me to write?" she squeaked and giggled. "Heavens t'Betsy no. I was just painting a picture with words."

"Really?" the Cherokee asked intrigued. "what sort of picture?"

"I'm describing how beautiful a certain young native warrior appeared standing with the fire at his back."

"Oh." The native's face darkened as he realized his folly, increasing our mirth. "Well, I will leave you to it." Mingo quickly arose and returned to us avoiding the sulky Corinthe all together.

"Well?" Yadkin asked impatiently. "Why are they here, Mr. Mingo Injun?"

"I don't know. Yadkin were you not telling us on the road just the other day that you missed having women in Boonesborough?" Mingo threw his arm out towards the room. "Observe, my friend, women."

"What happened to that simple task?" I asked with a chuckle.

The Cherokee shook his head and smirked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

On Saturday night, Mingo, Yadkin, and me were once again at the tavern having a late supper. The boys filed in and again the women were present. Some of the men got a little agitated with Cincinnatus. One of them said, "There ought to be a rule ag'in women in a tavern of the evenin'. A tavern's no place for women." There was a tense moment of silence.

Over the clack of her knitting needles, Priscilla said, "Tss, tss, such garbled English hurts my ears."

Corinthe broke her customary silence and jumped to her feet in an animated frenzy. She hollered, "Who are you to be telling women where they should and shouldn't be?" She didn't stop there to give anyone a chance to answer. Her words tumbled out of her mouth so fast I couldn't catch 'em. Why her speech had my brain tied in knots, I couldn't begin to relate it to you, but she ended it with "…and another thing, you men are the most filthy foul ugly creatures I have ever seen. Why the pirates and rogues that inhabit the Boston piers have better manners than you."

Quiet fell over the room. After a long spell, the rowdies began to all talk at once. It sounded like the gathering after a Sunday meeting when the freshly chastised men shyly test their voices to see if God will let them live.

A loud shrill whistle silenced everyone. It came from Priscilla. "Why you blubberin' crackers just think you got all the answers don't ya?"

Everyone including me sat with his jaw in his lap. Priscilla looked around shyly, then sat back down and returned to her knitting. She softly spoke like the whisper of an angel, "If you each take turns speaking we might be able to understand your gibberish." Mingo looked at me for explanation. I knew he thought the woman was possessed and I could not deny it.

Ned cleared his throat and stood up. "Well, I'm goin' to speak first." An argument then began and ran on for several minutes between the men and Corinthe about where women might be or not be. Each man stood and took his turn with Priscilla acting as marshal pointing her knitting needle at each speaker in turn. I was quite proud of those boys.

Then Yad had to go and flap his jaws. He doffed his feathered hat, nodded his head, scuffed his boots on the wood floor, cleared his throat--which told us all this was his last word on the matter. He commenced to explain loudly, "There's a place fer men and a place fer women and nature didn't intend no mixin' it up no more than she intended that women wear pants and men wear skirts." Sounded sensible to me, but I would never have spoken those words to that woman at that moment. The words echoed off the smoke-stained walls and rafters before the rest of the men gave the customary salute of agreement by pounding their tankards on the tables.

Corinthe was unfazed by the challenge. She chuckled then threw her elbows out akimbo and looked down at her own fine silk skirts. She brushed some invisible spec off the fabric, giving us all a silent moment to observe her fine polished beauty, then she looked up sharply and stared down poor Yad 'till he slumped into his chair like a sack o' grain. She pointed a bony finger in imitation of Saint Peter and proclaimed, "I ask you, is that—being--attired in the stained skin of some dead beast someone that should be judging my raiment? Did God intend for HER nature to be so corrupted to allow for the likes of him to govern the likes of me?" A shocked silence sucked the air from the room. Of course, I suspect no one actually understood her speech atal.

Corinthe was clearly going to be the winner of the debate, which was a frightening and desperate thought to a passel of rough-hewn country boys. Cincinnatus broke in to settle it. "Yad, if you have a mind to reduce the number of women in this tavern, why don't you marry one and send her to your home? A husband could rightly tell his wife where she should be of an evenin'." The room went silent. You could hear the spiders knitting their webs in the corners. Yad gazed bewildered at the innkeeper like he had just spoken French. The argument ended.

Mingo and I had been watching with amusement the debate between the Bostonian lady and the men of Boonesborough and couldn't help laughing at the conclusion.

"What d' you two find so amusin'?" Cincinnatus asked as he came to refill our ales.

"Cincinnatus an educated lady from Boston just talked down a bunch of rough frontier rowdies in your tavern," I said.

"'Natus you got some explainin' to do," Yadkin grumbled into his tankard.

"How's that Yad? I don't believe I owe anyone any explanations about anythin'." The proprietor was clearly on edge. The heated debate was probably not what he had in mind. I didn't press the matter though because at that moment the three ladies came to join us. Corinthe pulled up a chair and sat next to me. The other two found places for themselves. It was a mite cozy.

"Mr. Boone," Corinthe said, "Mrs. Boone invited the three of us to visit your home. We are in desperate need of a civilized evening and seek to honor that invitation. May we come to visit tomorrow for dinner?"

"Surely. I'll let Becky know you're comin'. She'll be mightily pleased."

"And it would be peachy if Mingo could join us," Bitsy Sue chirped as she gazed at the Cherokee longingly with her chin resting on her laced fingers. "Isn't that right, Priscilla?"

"Yes, indeed my little brilliant one," Priscilla said. "And Yadkin, too."

Yad and Mingo's eyes were darting at each other and at me and back again. I could see they were trying to come up with a proper decline to the invite. I wasn't about to be the only man in a cabin with four and a half women, so I said, "You boys aren't going turn down Becky's smoked turkey and cornbread dressing with apple dumpling to top it off? She would feel mighty slighted." Yadkin licked his lips. I had him.

"I suppose I could stay another night before heading back to Chota, if it's important to you, Daniel," Mingo said.

Bitsy Sue squealed with delight frightening Yadkin, but as he turned from her, he found Priscilla sitting so close she was practically in his lap. He sat back in his chair looking all the world like a trapped coon.

"Mr. Yadkin, you remind me so much of my late husband." Priscilla squeezed the trapper's strong forearm like she was testing a melon. "Of good southern stock, no doubt?"

Yadkin's blond moustache twitched. "Born and raised in North Carolina, ma'am."

"Really? So was my Samuel. What you did for us on the road was magnificent. You are a good kind man, Mr. Yadkin. You just never mind Corinthe. She's had a burr in her bonnet since we left Williamsburg."

Bitsy Sue was sitting very quiet staring at Mingo—watching him breathe. I could have sworn I saw his turkey feathers droop. "Mr. Mingo, are you a Cherokee?" she asked.

"Yes, and you may call me Mingo."

"I just adore everything about the Cherokee," Bitsy Sue chimed.

"Bitsy, honey, why the Cherokee?" Corinthe asked with a smirk.

"Um, I don't know. I'm just suddenly taken with everything Cherokee."

"Funny, you adored everything about the English back in Williamsburg," Corinthe said, "when that sharply uniformed young officer of the governor's guard assisted you down from the coach."

"Oh hush, Corinthe," Priscilla hissed. "Enough of you."

Corinthe narrowed her eyes at Priscilla then cocked her chin as a last word.

Bitsy Sue was paying no mind to her friends. "Mingo, is it true that the Cherokee sacrifice a young maiden to appease their gods before the corn harvest?"

Mingo's eyes widened. "I think you may have us confused with the Druids."

Bitsy Sue frowned. "Oh. I heard the Cherokee cut off their enemies' heads and use them as drinking cups."

"Well," Mingo furrowed his dark brow and pondered for a moment, "no, that would be those savages, the Picts."

"Oh," Bitsy replied with a disappointed sigh. "I guess I have much to learn."

"And Mingo's just the man to teach it," I said carelessly. Mingo gave me a cold stare.

"Just consider me an empty vessel, Mingo," Bitsy said.

"Oh, brother," Corinthe mumbled as she crossed her arms and slunk down in her chair next to me.

I was greatly amused by the spectacle before me—my two staunchly single friends being accosted by Cincinnatus's women. Over at the bar the old innkeeper was shaking his head. He was not happy. His patrons remained quiet, content to drink their liquor and murmur to each other so the women couldn't hear. They filed out about midnight without a single fight. I had to admit to myself that Cincinnatus had solved his problem of a Friday or Saturday night, but at what cost?

* * *

Becky cooked a feast for the visitors.

Israel took Bitsy Sue by the hand and walked her all around the farm showing her his animals and other oddities of the Kentucky insective and vegetative forms. I guessed they had decided to forgive and forget the whole pumpkin incident. She was scribbling away in her journal the whole time—as if she was conducting an interview. It brought to mind Mingo's questioning her about being a newspaper reporter and that worried me. Some northern newspaper might just come down here a-snooping around. Or was it that loyalist settlement No. 96 that sent these spies among us? We wouldn't suspect three innocent looking women, but they were very tall and that seemed as good a evidence of their duplicity as any to me. I eyed her with suspicion. Israel seemed to take a shine to the sweet thing. I'm not sure what she saw in him. For a brief moment, I had a premonition of young girls parading to and fro my cabin courting my boy when he no longer cared for his horny toads and lizards.

Jemima managed to crack the Corinthe ice block by asking about the social life of Boston. That was a topic Corinthe could talk upon without end. It sounded to me like Boston life was just one long party that moved from house to house inspecting the linen, the art, the rugs, the comings and the goings of every person. Jemima fixated unblinking upon Corinthe as she related the scandals, the adulteries, the politicking, the high-falutin' colleges and their young rapscallion skirt-chasing doctors and lawyers-to-be. It made me shiver to think on it. I wanted to place my hands over my daughter's ears to spare her innocence. Jemima was old enough to remember the eastern towns, and the fancy people. I feared they would one day lure her away.

It was a pleasant evening for all for the most part, except Jemima and Israel excused themselves early to climb to the loft for bed. I knew they were just tired of being corrected by Priscilla every time they opened their mouths. Priscilla wasn't shy about correcting anybody. It's like she had some demon in her making her do it against her will.

Bitsy Sue read one of her poems and Mingo said, "That's lovely Bitsy Sue. Are you familiar with a poet named Edmund Spenser?"

"Oh! Oh!" she screamed and flapped her hands startling the birds in the chimney wall earning an annoyed chirp from them and a honk from Hannibal the goose under the bed. "Wait! Wait! I love puzzles. Was he the one that wrote Romeo and Juliet? That's my favorite story," she quietly murmured as she gazed with Juliet eyes at her Cherokee Romeo."

A chuckle inexplicably slipped out of my throat, I quickly pretended to be coughing. Mingo turned his fierce furrowed brow upon me.

"Your poem reminded me of a passage from his Amoretti. It goes like this…

You frame my thoughts and fashion me within,  
You stop my tongue, and teach my heart to speak,  
You calm the storm that passion did begin,  
Strong through your cause, but by your virtue weak.  
Dark is the world where your light shined never;  
Well is he born that may behold you ever."

Bitsy Sue stared with wide blue eyes at the Cherokee as if were Shakespeare incarnate. I feared she was taking those fine words as if Mingo had written them on her heart. It was then that I noticed Priscilla was equally taken with my native friend. "Well, that reminds me," I announced, "we haven't brought out sweet-talker and had a song yet. You ladies like to sing?"

"It would be lovely, Mr. Boone, to hear a melody from your pioneer lips," Corinthe said in a sultry deep voice. Becky raised her copper brows and glared at the Boston lady.

While Bitsy Sue sat enamored with the Cherokee, I played and sang a couple of light-hearted dance tunes. Priscilla took an interest in Yadkin.

"What do you do for a living, Mr. Yadkin?" Priscilla asked.

"I'm a frontier trailblazer and I do some market huntin' and trappin'."

"A good living?"

"Yes'm. It's 'nough for me anyways. I don't need much."

"Now, that sounds like a true southerner—living off the land, beholden to no one. That was my Samuel."

"Were you born in the Carolinas?" Yadkin asked.

"Mercy no. I was born and raised in New England," Priscilla chirped as if it ought to be obvious.

"She's a northern expatriate, Mr. Yadkin," Corinthe said.

Yadkin furrowed his brow and asked Priscilla, "Did you do something wrong up there?"

"That's all right, Mr. Yadkin," Priscilla said. "Corinthe doesn't know how to mind her own business. You sound just like my Samuel. Yes, I am a northern woman, but I simply adore southern men."

"She and her Samuel made a cowardly dash for their lives to get away from the patriots up north," Corinthe said. "She's a loyalist, Mr. Yadkin. What do you think of loyalists?"

"If you mean a Britisher, I ain't got no use for 'em. They're good for nothin' I know of."

Priscilla's eyes left Yadkin and wandered over to Mingo and Bitsy Sue. Mingo was reciting a bit of Romeo and Juliet. Priscilla frowned. "Bitsy Sue, you should really make the acquaintance of Mr. Yadkin here. He is a charming southerner who guides the weak and unenlightened through the untamed wilderness. A real man. What a catch he would be for some single gal."

Yadkin bristled and sat up straight. He looked at me with panic on his tanned face.

I just shrugged and continued my lively tune. I was amused with my friend's discomfort until Corinthe sat down beside me on the settee by the fireplace and stuck her arm under mine. I could feel her warm breath upon my ear, but it was Becky's icey blue eyes a-fixed on me that was making me hot.

* * *

The next day I spent in the fields a-plowing. I was getting ready to plant wheat. I have to admit I'm not much of a farmer. When the mule gets stubborn and the dirt gets harder and harder and the sun is beating down on my head, my thoughts wander to cool forest streams, birds chattering high in the trees and the feel of my trusty Tick-licker in my hands. It was about dusk as I was putting the mule away for the evening explaining to him he would have to do a better job of pulling his load of the morning when I saw Mingo a-walking up with Israel at his side.

"Evening, Mingo. I thought you'd returned to Chota."

"I did, Daniel, but your son went astray. I am returning him to you."

"Why, I had no idea I was missing a son, but thank ya."

I could see by Israel's down turned face that he must have done something to raise a reprimand from his best pal, Mingo. "Israel, did you go off to Chota?"

"Bitsy Sue asked me to take her, Pa, and she didn't want anyone to know. She said she was writin' a poem about the Cherokee and wanted to see first hand how they lived."

Mingo frowned. "Daniel, Bitsy Sue showed up at my lodge this morning, a tiny petticoatted bell-shaped silhouette in the doorway that I knew was no Cherokee woman."

"That must have given you quite a fright."

"I told Bitsy Sue last night," Israel said, "we had to go before dawn to make the trip in a day."

"Daniel," Mingo said in a stern voice, "I believe Israel left his bed last night to begin his journey. Did he do so without your knowledge?"

There was an edge to Mingo's tone that made me defensive.

"Mingo, I didn't send him on that errand. Obviously, Bitsy Sue persuaded the tike to do her biddin'. You know I raise the boy to make his own way in the world and be comfortable in the woods. I don't see he committed any crime in makin' a trip to Chota to help this lady out--"

The Cherokee took a deep breath and exhaled. "White Cloud took one look at her scribbling in her journal and pronounced her a missionary and ordered her burned alive. Luckily, I was able to persuade him that she was a myth-keeper not a missionary, but Menewa decided she was a spy charting out our village in preparation for an attack. He called out the warriors to prepare to attack Boonesborough."

I swallowed hard, lifted my coonskin cap and scratched my head but said nothing. I couldn't see anyway it were my fault. "Israel, you go into the cabin and get your supper."

The boy left us.

"Menewa thought she was a spy, too?" I asked. "I guess he and I think more alike then I realized."

Mingo narrowed his black eyes at me in puzzlement.

"Let's you and me take a walk down to the river," I said. "I've got some fish coolin' their fins."

We walked the distance to the fort in silence. It grew dark and the moon was bright upon us when we reached the river's edge. "Mingo," I said, "clearly it was just a misunderstandin' that you handled with aplomb and saved us all from slaughter. Why don't you just tell me straight out what's botherin' you?"

I feared he was going to tell me I was a delinquent father. Of course, he'd be right, but just the same my feathers were ruffled and I was determined not to back down when he said, "Daniel, Israel told me you wanted me to marry Bitsy Sue. What in the world have you been telling that boy about me and since when is it any of your business who I marry or if I marry?"

Well, I was a mite takin' a-back with that revelation. I hadn't told Israel any such thing but I hated to make him out a liar. I was torn. "Now hold on there, Mingo, Israel probably just misunderstood some loose-lipped fort gossip. You know how children get notions in their heads."

Mingo put his hands on his hips and I could tell he was staring me down even in the moonlight. "I don't think Israel would ever lie to me."

"And you think I would?" My dander was up at being called a liar. I knew I'd lose any argument with Mingo though. He could out talk all the pastors, politicians and lawyers in the whole colony of Virginia. Nope. I couldn't win no argument with that stubborn Cherokee. Not with words anyway. My usual tactic was to agree with everything he said which would fluster and confuse him till he forgot his point.

"It's been bothering you and Becky for a long time that I'm not married."

Bringing Becky into it? Why—I held my tongue.

"Israel was just telling me what you couldn't bring yourself to say."

I swallowed my pride and pushed my anger to the back of my throat. "Yep, you're right, Mingo."

There was silence as Mingo regrouped his thoughts.

"Daniel, I'm serious."

"Yep."

"If you think I'm going to fall for that tactic of agreeing with me to disarm me you can forget it."

Now I have to admit, I'm not proud of myself for what happened next, but for some reason that just made me madder than heck for him to throw my tactics in my face. "Mingo, you are standing here calling me and Becky liars. Would you like to throw in an assessment of my skills as a father, too?"

"Don't try to change the subject. I'm telling you that my life and what I do with it is my business and no man or woman or child is going to tell me what I may or may not do with it."

I could tell the Cherokee was really mad, which made me mad that he would get mad over such a silly thing. He needed a little help controlling that temper of his so my right arm slung out of it's own accord and brought my fist to meet his jaw and down he went to my great satisfaction.

It was then a strange roar off to my right distracted me. I looked out over the dark river and the next thing I knew I was upended and flat on my back with Mingo hovering over me like a black bear. Then he heard the same thing as the roar became a thunder like a herd of buffalo. He looked away giving me the chance to throw him off. We both scrambled to our feet and watched as the whole Kentucky River up and sucked itself dry. The water parted and pealed back. I felt like Moses must have felt standing there before the red sea. The fish sparkled in the moonlight as they flopped about and went 'squish' in the muddy riverbed.

Well if that wasn't enough, the next thing I knew, a giant catfish jumped out of that riverbank in a panic and latched onto my face. It was all Mingo could do to get that critter off me. He wrestled with it for awhile before cutting it's big ornery head off with his knife.

Mingo and I stared in shock at each other for a moment as we caught our breath. Bruises and blood covered us both head to toe--but mostly me. We backed off away from the river bank slowly a few paces, then turned and ran to the fort.

Nary a whisper ever passed between us about that night. I think we both feared Judgment day was upon us. We never knew the cause of that strange river phenomenon and we never saw it happen again, but from that day forward, Mingo and I were real careful to keep our tempers under control lest the whole of Kentuck would disappear and be sucked down into the earth.

* * *

When we returned to the fort, nursing our wounds, we found Priscilla livid with Bitsy Sue.

"Bitsy dear, we didn't know where you were. The men were preparing to go out looking for you. They said the Shawnee probably grabbed you down by the river. Well, I imagined the very worst--we would find your molested dismembered bloody body hanging from a tree." Priscilla was nervously wringing her hands.

Bitsy Sue stamped her dainty booted foot and started bawling like a baby. "Oh Priscilla, I never meant to worry anyone. I didn't want to be a bother so I asked that dear little boy Israel to take me to the Cherokee village."

Priscilla's hands stopped. "You did what?"

"I asked…"

"Oh never mind, I heard you. How could you do such a thing behind my back?"

"What do you mean behind your back?"

Yadkin was standing near the door to the tavern talking to Cincinnatus and grinning at the fussing women who had obviously become the entertainment for the evening. I suddenly felt the itch of responsibility and started to walk towards the ladies to lend them a bit of my wisdom when I felt Mingo's stiff arm blocking my way. Mingo, ever the gentleman, attempted to intervene in the ladies' discussion. "Ladies, it is quite all right. There is no need for consternation or reproach."

"Who asked you?" Priscilla spat as angry as a tomcat looking for a fight. "What business is it of yours?"

Mingo was caught off guard but he quickly collected his wits. "It was my village and my lodge she came to!"

Priscilla opened her mouth to speak but seemed to think better of it. She clamped it shut and turned about dragging Bitsy Sue with her to their cabin. She jerked around for one last word, "I would think a man that talked as well as you do would know not to end a sentence with a preposition." She slammed the door behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Mingo and Yadkin had figured out what Cincinnatus was up to about the same time I did. I headed for the tavern the next morning to catch the conniving innkeeper as he was rising from his bed, but when I opened the door I found my two friends had beat me to it. I told them how Becky was mad as heck at me because that woman, Corinthe, was looking at me with 'bedroom eyes'. Yadkin was mad because Priscilla was trying to fix him up with Bitsy Sue. Mingo was mad because Bitsy Sue wouldn't leave him alone and had terrified the whole Cherokee village. We wanted to know how those women came to be in Boonesborough with no husbands.

"I'm paying their room and board," Cincinnatus said.

"What in the world for?" I asked perturbed.

"I paid for their journey here and offered them room and board so some of those fool men would marry em'."

"You mean you ordered brides like you order stock?" I asked. "Is that why they are all tall?"

"Well, Dan'l, yeah, I suppose you might say that. I stipulated their height thinkin' the taller the better. I was thinkin' of Becky."

Cincinnatus thinking on Becky made me stop and think, but I quickly cleared my thoughts. "Are they bondswomen?" I asked.

"Well…not exactly."

"You mean to say you bonded yourself to them?" I asked. The grizzly proprietor's eyes widened in shock. I knew then he hadn't thought this thing full out.

Yadkin picked the proprietor up off the floor by his shirt lapels and slammed him against the wall.

"Now, see here," Cincinnatus sputtered, "I had no intention of them botherin' you three. I meant for some of these crazy single boys to get hitched to quiet them down and keep them a home at a reasonable hour so they wouldn't tear up my tavern every weekend."

"Your plan does not appear to be working," Mingo said.

"It just needs to be righted," the innkeeper said with a gasp as Yadkin tightened his grip. "You two just tell those women you ain't lookin' for no wives."

Yadkin snarled, "I've done told them. Priscilla won't take no for an answer. You tell 'em to leave us alone."

"Daniel, make this big oaf put me down. This ain't no way to treat a business man just taking care of his business."

"Yad, put the man down, so Mingo and I can scalp him."

Yadkin let go and Cincinnatus dropped to the floor landing with a thump on his rear.

The innkeeper rubbed his throat. "I don't reckon these things can be planned out exactly. Women favor who they favor. There's no science to it. I cain't very well tell them you boys don't want 'em. Why that would be plumb cruel. Besides...I've sort of guaranteed there would be husbands here for them."

"What did you say?" I asked not believing my ears.

Cincinnatus ignored me and looked with pleading eyes first at Mingo then at Yad. "Yadkin what's wrong with Bitsy Sue? She's darn good-looking and talented."

"What would I do with a woman that sits around scribblin' all day? Why she'd be worthless at skinnin' and tannin'. Besides those good-looks just mean I'd be worried all the time about some man stealin' her. I wouldn't have any friends anymore."

Cincinnatus looked at Mingo. "Now, Mingo ain't it 'bout time you thought about takin' a woman? Bitsy Sue can birth babies."

Mingo looked shocked at the older man. "Cincinnatus, she would not last one day at Chota. She almost met an early death as a pile of ashes this morning. What makes you think I want a woman birthing babies? Has the whole world decided to plan my life without consulting me?"

The innkeeper looked forlorn. "Well, I've an obligation to care for 'em till they're married or for life. That's part of the deal. If I go belly-up, ya'll lose this store and tavern."

I'd been quietly listening to my friends' remonstrations when a thought came to me. "Cincinnatus, why don't you marry one of 'em and show these boys how it's done?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you!" all three of us yelled in chorus.

Cincinnatus got up off the floor adjusted his apron and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, that Priscilla can sure turn out the socks." He pointed his thumb to a pile next to the chair where Priscilla sat every Friday and Saturday night. "I reckon she could pay for herself."

* * *

With a little instruction from Becky, Cincinnatus started courting Priscilla, but she had no interest in him and brushed him off like a fly. She and the little innkeeper made an odd couple as she was a good foot taller than him. I encouraged him to quit slouching but it did no good. Those women were taller then most of the men in Boonesborough. Why only Mingo, Yad and I turned our eyes downward to talk to 'em.

One morning Becky interrupted my wood-chopping to tell me, "Dan, Priscilla only has eyes for Mingo."

"Well, that's too bad 'cause Mingo has no interest in gettin' married and I advise you not to say a word to him about it."

"Dan, once a woman has her mind set on a particular man," Becky explained, "trying to turn her to another is like trying to marry a porcupine to a goat."

I must have looked unconvinced because she grabbed my head and pointed it at Mingo and Cincinnatus standing near the well. "Can you not see what I'm sayin' to you?"

I shook my head, which caused her to roll her eyes to the sky and stretch her arms up as if beseeching heavenly assistance. I never did understand what she was trying to tell me. Seems like a man is a man and if one wants t'marry and the other not, the choice to a husband-seeking woman ought to be plain.

What was obvious to me though is that Priscilla grew more and more jealous of Bitsy Sue. There was no convincing those two women that Mingo was unattainable.

Becky forbade me from going to the fort while 'that Boston woman' was there, but I went anyway. I feared those women were going to cause a war and I felt responsible. That's what happens when a town is named after you. It's the curse of responsibility.

Another Friday night came around. Priscilla had knitted a sweater for Mingo and Bitsy Sue had written an ode to him. Corinthe snuck up behind Bitsy Sue and grabbed her journal then proceeded to read the ode aloud for the assembled patrons. I couldn't help laughing though I tried mightily to keep from it. It was something about silky dark hair blowing in the breeze and fierce eyes of black fire. My, my, my. Her words made my face turn red, so I could imagine the discomfort Mingo was in.

None of it seemed to disturb Bitsy Sue. She dared a quick peck on the Cherokee's cheek. Mingo bolted from the tavern with Priscilla and Bitsy Sue after him and Yadkin and I laughed 'till our sides hurt.

The men figured out why the women were in Boonesborough. They had no intention of helping Cincinnatus out of his situation. They laughed, drank and got merry and forgot the women were there.

Corinthe surprised them all when she hitched-up her white laced petticoats and climbed on a chair. She bellowed, "Listen here, as long as I'm here, and I have to be here per my contract, you men are going to behave yourselves. You are all a disgrace to your gender, your country and your gods. Why the noble natives of this land are less savage than you."

Ned laughed. "Lady, if you don't like our company, we can put you in a canoe and send you down the river to the Shawnee if you like." He tried to get fresh with the Boston woman but she slapped him hard on his balding head. The rest of the men fell to laughing.

That was when I decided it was time for me to step in and yank those sorry excuses for men back to their senses even if it meant beating the tar out of each and every one. But just as I stood, rolled up my sleeves and opened my mouth to yell over the din, the door opened and three tall handsome strangers strode into the tavern as if deposited there by the very rays of the sun at their backs. All eyes turned, the room went dead quiet, and I shut my mouth.

* * *

The strangers turned out to be brothers. The gregarious men told their life stories before ever closing the door behind them. They were headed out west to grab some land, start a cattle farm. One's name was Joe, one was Eric and the third was Adam. They had a raft on the river and just stopped to stock up with supplies. They planned on reaching the Mississippi by month's end.

Corinthe climbed down slowly from her chair and sidled over to Adam. She slipped her arm under his and turned a bright willing face up to meet his gaze. A slow grin came across Adam's face revealing his perfect white teeth. Every man in the room had his mouth open staring at the newly made couple. It was like some veil was lifted revealing Corinthe as the most desirable woman on earth.

Joe and Eric sauntered to the bar. "Give us your best," thundered Eric as he slapped the wood top. Cincinnatus shook his head as if to clear it and poured up two tall ones.

Bitsy Sue and Priscilla re-entered the tavern after giving up on chasing the fleet-footed Cherokee. They were disheveled with briars and brush debris stuck here and there. I reckoned Mingo had led them on a merry chase through difficult terrain. I was a mite worried about him, though. The women started primping and adjusting as soon as they caught sight of the new men in town.

Bitsy walked up to Joe. He turned and looked her up and down with a roving practiced eye. "What's your name little lady," he said with a saucy grin.

"It's Bitsy Sue."

"Well that's an apt name for you, ain't it so Eric?"

"Sure is."

I don't know how they come to that conclusion when Bitsy Sue was looking eye to eye with six-foot Joe, but she was as skinny as a bird.

"Are you hitched to this place?" Joe asked.

"No, I'm all alone and without a friend," she pitifully pleaded. She turned woeful eyes upon Priscilla.

"How 'bout you head out west with me and my brothers?" Joe asked, throwing caution to the wind.

"Are you proposing?" Bitsy Sue asked shyly.

"I sure is."

"There something you should know about me, Joe," Bitsy Sue said with her head bowed sorrowfully. "I'm a tainted woman…"

I held my breath for fear was what she was going to say.

"…I nearly started a Cherokee war."

Joe laughed. "Oh that's nothing. Me and Eric fired the first shots at Lexington."

"Then I accept," Bitsy chirped with a beaming face.

Priscilla hung her head and looked forlorn when Eric said, "Now what are you all hang-jawed about woman?"

"I don't have anybody. Bitsy and Corinthe are just going to leave me here to this rabble," she said with a sniffle.

Eric reached out his big arm and swallowed Priscilla up. "I got a hankering for some woman cooking and kindness myself. What say you saddle up with me?"

Priscilla's smile brightened the whole place and there wasn't a frown or jeer to be seen, except for ole' Cincinnatus who was muttering to himself and rubbing the finish off a place on his bar with his apron.

* * *

As the magistrate of Boonesborough, I married the three couples in a quick ceremony in the tavern. Yadkin, Mingo and Becky happily attended. They all felt the lifting of a mighty burden with the exodus of Cincinnatus's women. All the settlers bid the newlyweds a kind farewell at the river's edge and watched them float off into the sunset towards a new life out west.

"Yad," Mingo asked with a sigh, "is this going to be a dull lifeless place again without those women?"

Yadkin was clearly struggling with the contradictions in his mind. "Them dandies ain't better then us are they, Mingo?"

"They are adventurers, Yadkin, and I suppose we look rather settled and boring next to them."

"Borin'? You and me ain't borin' and we ain't bad lookin' either and I don't know about you but I'm far from settled. I ain't met the woman that can settle me."

Mingo raised his brows. "I cannot disagree with that, Yadkin, but we are not going to exciting new places, we are not seeking better lives than what we have right here, and few women pass this way. Have you ever thought about that?"

My friends were feeling a little abandoned and rejected. I have to admit my self-esteem was a mite deflated as well when I saw Corinthe take to that Adam so fast, but I just said, "Hope the Shawnee don't get 'em."

**The End**


End file.
